Month: March 2016
Busy Day
Spring Monday
We looked out the window this morning to a surprise: the men who’d paved our street a couple of weeks ago had returned to rebuild the now-incredibly low shoulder. After the Boy finished his breakfast, I called him to the front door. His response was predictable: “Wow!” We quickly got on some warmer clothes — though it was sunny, the temperature was still cool — and headed out to watch the workers.
The girls, in the meantime, headed down to the trampoline, and soon enough, the Boy wanted to join them. After all the cold rain yesterday, we were all determined to spend as much time outside as possible today.
After lunch, we headed to a local park. The Boy discovered he could literally hang just about anywhere.
Easter 2016
Easter 2016 Soundtrack
Possibly the most beautiful pieces of music — certainly one of my all-time favorites: the last 14 minutes of Mahler’s Symphony Number 2, also known as the Resurrection Symphony.
Holy Saturday 2016
Special thanks to Fr. Theo for his continued support of the Polish community.
Good Friday 2016
Playing
When L was at religious education and K was out shopping, the boys played.
Spring Sunset
Spring Saturday
We feel this way every single spring, the relief that the winter is over, that the cold has passed, that bright sun is the norm. No matter the severity of the winter, we all feel this way, especially here in the South, where we’re not really sure what to do with cold weather anyway.
Today was the first warm — truly warm — Saturday we’ve had in the yard. Last weekend we had guests; next weekend is Palm Sunday. From here on out, weekends are not for working in the yard, so we made the most of this beautiful day.
We started with the shrubs in front of the house. The boxwoods are a distant memory, but some of the replacements have not fared well, especially the Indian Hawthorns. We did everything we could, even apparently resurrecting them one spring, but they are stubbornly fragile, so I pulled them out today. Literally — all it took was some rocking and tugging and out they came.
The Boy came out to help me, but the Girl was still in bed. E showed me how he walks in preschool when they have to be “super quiet.” I would imagine he has little trouble following those directions, though: he’s so concerned about following instructions that he gets upset now when he sees his schoolmates taking off their shoes. “It’s against fire code!” he fusses, echoing what his teachers told the class at the beginning of the year. Thinking of some of my own students’ disregard for rules and regulations, I was tempted when he first explained the fire code dilemma, to let him know that once he got to public school, it would become the ironic norm.
The Girl finally woke up, and it was straight to the driveway for racing. She never lets the Boy win, which frustrates him at times, but mostly he shrugs it off. It’s difficult to imagine her doing the same thing when faced with a seemingly-endless losing streak, but that’s one of the many differences that make them both precious to us.
From the Mountains
